


sing me anything

by afancyghost



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Living Together, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25372144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afancyghost/pseuds/afancyghost
Summary: Oikawa has changed in so many incredible ways since they first met. Iwaizumi knows that this is completely natural, considering how long they’ve known each other, and he also knows that he’s changed in a lot of ways too. But the one thing that has stayed consistent about Oikawa, through childhood, puberty, and now adulthood—Oikawa is an absolutelyatrocioussinger and, for some reason, he’s the only person that doesn’t seem to know it.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54
Collections: Oikawa Week 2020





	sing me anything

**Author's Note:**

> oh hey, it's my first time writing for hq!! so that's pretty exciting!
> 
> i saw that Oikawa Week was going on and had to contribute something for my fav boi, so here we are! this was written for **day 3: slice of life** (though im late as usual rip). also, my roommate left to stay with her parents for a few weeks, and i realized how much i missed waking up to her absolutely horrible singing, and of course had to turn it into a fic. never written slice of life before, so hopefully it's ok!
> 
> title comes from straylight run's "existentialism on prom night," because a bitch is basic:  
>  _Sing me something soft  
>  Sad and delicate  
> Or loud and out of key  
> Sing me anything_

It starts with a soft thudding sound, gently prying at the walls of his consciousness. It’s soothing, almost like rain splattering against the window on a lazy Sunday morning, and he can’t help the way his eyes remained glued shut, intent on dozing back to sleep. 

Then, there’s a clicking sound, and that one's harder to ignore. It’s still soft and gentle, like it didn’t want to rouse him, but it doesn’t sound like rain against the rooftop or the fluttering wings of birds thumping against the window as they find a perch to rest upon. The sound is clearly coming from a person, and it’s inside the apartment. The kitchen, his dazed mind suggests. 

It’s around this time that he remembers: he fell asleep alone last night. His apartment should be empty.

His mind immediately stutters awake and he finds himself sitting up in bed before he’s fully prepared, the room spinning as he groggily attempts to take stock of the situation. Makki and Mattsun have a spare key to his apartment, and whenever Oikawa leaves for an away game, they always seem to weasel their way inside, claiming that it’s because Iwaizumi always gets so _gloomy_ with Oikawa gone. Which is stupid because he’s _fine,_ but that doesn’t stop them from coming over. Maybe—

He quickly leans over to the nightstand to take a look at his phone. It’s _early,_ far too early for Makki and Mattsun to willingly come over on a Sunday, and there’s no text from either of them saying that they plan on coming. He is immediately on high alert. 

He stumbles out of bed, quietly cursing the blankets that twist in his ankles. He sneaks over to the bedroom door with his phone in hand, just in case he has to call for help or send Oikawa one last message of _I love you and you better take care of yourself when I’m gone or I’ll kill you._ He presses his ear against the door and holds his breath. 

It takes him a few seconds to piece together the various noises. He’s certain now that they _are_ coming from the kitchen, though he’s not sure why. It’s not like they have fine china or silver lying around. In fact, he’s pretty sure Oikawa just grabbed whatever sets were on sale back when they first moved in together, and it’s because of this that none of their dishes match.

It’s only when one of the noises stops that he realizes what it was: running water. The kitchen sink was running. He figures that’s what he heard initially, the water running across the dishes like rain on the window. His suspicions are confirmed when he hears the clinking of a dish being set in the drying rack, and either this person is the most considerate burglar in the world, or Makki and Mattsun are a lot more dedicated to chasing away his missing-Oikawa gloom than he thought, because someone is most _definitely_ washing his dishes right now.

And now that he’s thinking about it, he can _smell_ something too. The scent is light, but it’s there: sweet and warm and buttery, and just as the image of a pancake pops into his mind, he hears what he imagines is a spatula scraping against a pan, and then the dull thud of something being flipped.

There is no way it’s a burglar, because no one would go for the pancake mix when the TV, gaming console, and laptop are just a few feet away in the living room. And there’s no way it’s Makki and Mattsun, because both of them are banned from cooking in his apartment after they nearly burned it down trying to bake a cake for Iwaizumi’s birthday. His heart suddenly flutters for a whole new reason when that only leaves one option, and his stomach tightens into a pleasurable knot that he will never admit to, because pancakes means— 

He cracks open the door as quietly as he can, and that’s when he hears it. It has a tinny sort of sound to it, so it must be playing from his phone instead of their speakers, but it’s some pop song that Oikawa loves and Iwaizumi can’t stand, one that comes on the radio _far_ too often for any sane person to find enjoyable anymore. It’s low, presumably so it won’t wake him up, but that just means he can hear Oikawa’s singing perfectly clear.

Oikawa has changed in so many incredible ways since they first met. Iwaizumi knows that this is completely natural, considering how long they’ve known each other, and he also knows that he’s changed in a lot of ways too. Their relationship itself has changed, and Iwaizumi likes to think it’s been for the better. But the one thing that has stayed consistent about Oikawa, through childhood, puberty, and now adulthood— 

Oikawa is an absolutely _atrocious_ singer and, for some reason, he’s the only person that doesn’t seem to know it. In bars or locker rooms or in the shower, he will sing with the brazen confidence of a professional idol, but what actually comes out of his mouth is closer to a pack of cats clawing at each other in a back alley. Makki always says it sounds like a prepubescent boy getting the wind knocked out of him via a sack of bricks to the gut; Mattsun always says it sounds like two beached whales making violently passionate love; Oikawa always says he has no idea what they’re talking about, because his voice sounds like an angel with rainbows coming out of his ass. Depending on the situation, Iwaizumi will either say nothing at all (because sleeping on the couch is less than ideal) or say that he sounds like two goats bleating at each other through a tin can telephone (because he refuses to go easy on Oikawa just because they’re dating now).

The point is — Oikawa’s singing is _awful._ It’s the most grating sound in the world, but he absolutely loves to sing along to whatever song is playing, so all their lives, Iwaizumi has had to endure what sounds like a hippo wailing in pain as each of its teeth are pulled out. When they were kids, the sound of Oikawa singing was just funny, in the same way that shoving a bug in his face until he cried was funny: sure, it could be annoying after a while, but the initial hilarity was always worth it. As they got older, it got slightly more annoying, especially since Oikawa loved to hum while they did homework, which was endlessly distracting and exasperating. But it was also so _Oikawa_ that Iwaizumi couldn’t help but still find it funny, like when Oikawa made that stupid pouting face that made him look like he was six years old again, the one that was so obnoxious but also made something vicious and wanting curl in his stomach, something he wasn’t quite ready to name yet.

But then they _finally_ got together, and that vicious and wanting curl in his stomach came out in the open, huge and hungry and _allowed,_ and suddenly, Oikawa’s singing wasn’t obnoxious or funny anymore — at least, not in the way it used to be.

Oikawa’s voice cracks over a high note, and Iwaizumi smashes his fist against his widely curled mouth, desperately trying to keep his laughter at bay. He slowly pushes the bedroom door open enough so that he can slip out and tiptoes closer to the kitchen, his mouth wobbling around his smile and his chest stirring with excitement.

The scent of pancakes gets stronger, and now he can smell coffee brewing as well. He can hear the fizzle of something frying in the pan under the warble of Oikawa’s voice. Leaning against the wall to try and keep out of sight, Iwaizumi peeks around the corner and has to physically bite down on his smile.

Oikawa’s suitcases are still parked by the front door, his shoes and jacket tossed haphazardly beside them. His hair is a mess and he’s still in his sweatpants, which means he probably didn’t even shower after coming home from the airport. He’s wearing the apron that Makki jokingly got him for his birthday a few years ago, a custom print with a pancake flipping out of a pan and bright blue text exclaiming _NICE SERVE!_ All of the dishes that Iwaizumi left in the sink the night before are clean and sitting in the drying rack, and only a large bowl filled with batter remains on the counter. 

Oikawa flips a finished pancake onto a stack of them sitting on a plate by the stove, and shakes his hips as he shuffles over towards the opposite counter where the bowl of batter sits. Iwaizumi bites down on his lip harder, the thought _god, he has such a flat ass_ entering his mind unbidden and making it very hard for him to keep quiet. Oikawa grabs the bowl and brings it back towards the stove to pour more batter in the pan, dancing all the way there and then back again. Iwaizumi finally gets a clear look at his face when he sets the bowl back down. There are bags under his eyes and he looks washed out, like he’s well and truly exhausted, but there’s a sleepy smile on his face as he dances clumsily, his voice completely off tune as he continues to sing.

Iwaizumi is suddenly overwhelmed by the warm swath of affection stirring in his gut. It’s enough to almost make him _cry,_ just watching this person he’s known all his life, this person that he loves so much, singing and dancing in their shared kitchen while he prepares breakfast, looking soft and sleepy and a little too much for Iwaizumi’s heart. He wants to throw him over his shoulder and take him straight to bed. He wants to slam him against the wall and kiss his brains out. He wants to listen to him sing along off key to awful pop music for the rest of his life.

But he doesn’t know what to do with all this — love, affection, adoration, want — this _feeling,_ doesn’t know how to process something so huge and all encompassing, especially this early in the morning. So instead, he just steps out from behind the wall, and hopes that his voice doesn't shake with obvious excitement when he says, “Oikawa?”

Oikawa suddenly yelps, and honestly, it doesn’t sound all that different from his weird singing. The only reason Iwaizumi knows it’s a yelp and not his attempt at a high note is because he jumps and whirls around when he does it, his eyes wide as he fumbles with the spatula to avoid dropping it on the floor. Iwaizumi can’t contain himself anymore, and he finally laughs out loud. It sounds too soft and affectionate to be mocking, even to his own ears.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa calls, and it’s amazing how he can make one word sound simultaneously excited, embarrassed, and whiney. His face is going through a similar struggle, his mouth a weird cross between a grin and a pout while his cheeks flame pink. Iwaizumi has to physically stop himself from going over there and smothering his face with kisses. He has a reputation to maintain, after all.

Finally, Oikawa seems to settle on a mix of excited and flirtatious pouting. He puts one hand on his hip and stomps his foot, waving the spatula with his free hand as he chastises with a laugh, “You weren’t supposed to wake up yet! How am I supposed to surprise you with breakfast _in_ bed if you’re already _out_ of bed?”

Iwaizumi can see the way his lips tremble around the pout, clearly trying to keep back his smile so he can put on this little act, and the swath of affection somehow grows even larger, until he just has to get closer. He trails over slowly, a smirk slipping onto his face as he says, “How is anyone supposed to sleep when you’re out here sounding like a horse being shot to death?”

Oikawa’s face morphs into one of horror, and as soon as Iwaizumi is within swatting distance, he starts whacking him with the spatula, spluttering all the while. “A _horse_ — You — mean, Iwa-chan! You’re so mean! Here I am, coming home early to surprise you and lovingly making you breakfast, and all you do is tell _lies_ about my singing!”

Iwaizumi allows Oikawa to get a few hits in with the spatula before plucking it out of his hands and tossing it onto the counter, grinning impishly as he presses their foreheads together and rests his hands on Oikawa’s hips. Oikawa quickly quiets at the contact, and from this close, Iwaizumi can practically _feel_ his face warm up as his cheeks pinken. The fluttering in his stomach stretches out to encompass his heart as well. He pulls Oikawa closer, until he can wrap his arms around him fully.

Oikawa eventually slides his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist, but there’s still an indignant pout on his face. “You are so unromantic, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sulks, though he continues to nuzzle their faces closer together. “I was trying to be cute and you ruined everything. This is no way to welcome your loving boyfriend home, you know.”

Iwaizumi huffs out a laugh, and he sees Oikawa’s pout soften just a bit. Iwaizumi didn’t notice it when Oikawa was gone, but now that he’s back, it feels like he can finally _breathe_ again, and he’s starting to think that maybe Makki and Mattsun aren’t too far off when they say he gets gloomy without Oikawa around. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says softly, because he’s missed him so much and he doesn’t mind letting Oikawa win every once in a while. “Welcome home, Tooru.”

Oikawa holds the pout for approximately two more seconds before grinning widely and smashing their lips together. Iwaizumi can smell the pancake burning in the pan and Oikawa is grinning too wide for the kiss to be anything more than clumsy, but when he pulls back, Oikawa rubs their noses together and practically _giggles,_ and it’s like music to his ears.

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you think! also, come follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/afancyghost) and [tumblr](https://afancyghost.tumblr.com/)!


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